Rovi followed the woman out of the dormitory.
The wind outside was strong.
A small, pitch-black shuttlecraft sat in the shadows.
No markings. No lights.
Rovi climbed the boarding ramp.
Just before the hatch closed, he looked back at the enormous granary.
He looked toward Supervisor Kase's office.
Goodbye, Supervisor Kase.
By the time I come back, we won't be superior and subordinate anymore.
The hatch closed.
The shuttlecraft rose into the air like a ghost, flying toward the Governor's Spire, which towered into the clouds.
The shuttlecraft cut through the clouds.
There were no windows.
Only red Emergency Lights blinked overhead.
Rovi sat in a cold metal seat, the safety belt squeezing his chest until it felt tight.
Across from him, the female Captain of the Guard sat as motionless as a statue, her hand never leaving the grip of her Boltgun.
Rovi said nothing.
He counted the seconds.
Using the gravity and the engine's vibration frequency, he calculated their altitude and distance.
Five minutes of ascent.
Ten minutes of level flight.
Now they were descending.
This was the upper level of the Governor's Mansion Spire.
"We've arrived."
The Captain of the Guard stood and pressed the hatch control.
The pressure-balancing valve let out a hiss.
The hatch slid open.
Cold air rushed in.
But there was none of the Lower Sector's sour stench in it. Instead, the air carried a faint, expensive incense.
Rovi walked down the boarding ramp.
This was a private landing pad.
Gothic pillars towered all around them, each one carved with elaborate reliefs.
"Stay close," the Captain of the Guard said. "Don't look around. Don't wander off. Unless the Governor asks you a question, keep your mouth shut."
Rovi nodded.
He kept his head down, his eyes fixed only on the black military boots ahead of him.
They passed through a corridor and two heavy doors fitted with genetic scanners.
Then they stopped in front of an ornate redwood door.
The Captain of the Guard knocked three times.
"Come in."
The voice was young and calm, yet carried the authority of someone accustomed to giving orders.
The door opened.
Rovi went inside.
It was a spacious, solemn study.
Portraits of former Governors lined the walls.
Their faces were frozen in shadow, lifeless.
Several battle standards hung in tatters, their fabric torn.
Their charred edges still held the acrid trace of old smoke and dust.
Bookshelves crowded the shadows near the ceiling.
Paper volumes and Dataslates sat crammed together, cold and silent.
At the center of the room,
a heavy black obsidian desk dominated the space.
The woman sat behind it.
Alicia van Valantius.
She had taken off her bulky Power Armour.
All she wore was an ivory silk blouse and dark riding breeches.
The ivory blouse followed the contours of her body, draping loosely over her fair shoulders and chest.
The dark breeches hugged her waist and legs.
Her lines were clean and sharp, like a blade still in its sheath.
Her silver hair was not carefully combed.
She had simply gathered it at the back of her head and tied it up.
A few strands had slipped loose, falling softly beside her cheeks.
Her features were exquisite, but lacked luster.
As if she had spent so long beneath domes and stone walls that she rarely saw true daylight.
She sat there,
relaxed, yet completely alert.
Something heavy lay deep in her violet eyes—
not childishness,
nor mere authority,
but the depth and weariness unique to those burdened with great responsibilities too soon.
Her beauty was like the room itself:
a weighted silence, quietly invaded by countless things that had come before.
Yet to Rovi, she was more dangerous than when she wore Power Armour.
Because she was turning a Masterwork Dagger over in her hand.
He was certain it was the same knife that had scratched out the coded message.
Rovi stopped five meters from the desk and knelt on one knee.
"Rank 4 Scribe Rovi, at your service, Governor."
Alicia did not tell him to rise.
She turned the dagger in her hand, its blade catching the light.
"You think you deserve to be called a Scribe?"
"You're a liar, Rovi. You deceived my tax assessor. You falsified data. You even colluded with the Adeptus Mechanicus and tampered with a Holy Relic."
Alicia rose and walked over to Rovi.
"Under Imperial Law, any one of those offenses would be enough to send you to the stake to burn for three days and nights."
She lifted his chin with the tip of the blade.
Rovi had no choice but to raise his head.
He saw those violet eyes.
There was no killing intent in them.
She looked at him as if he were a commodity whose price she was considering.
"Give me one reason not to kill you," she said.
Rovi met her gaze.
He remained calm and spoke evenly.
"Because I saved you two hundred and seventy thousand tons of grain."
Alicia laughed.
"Saved? Kase stole it. You just cleaned up after him."
"If I hadn't, the two hundred and seventy thousand tons would have become a dead loss. The tax assessor would have uncovered it, and Kase would have shifted the blame onto you."
"He'd say poor management at the Governor's Mansion had led to corruption among the lower ranks."
"Then you'd not only have to make up the shortfall, but also face an inquiry from the Ministry of the Interior."
Rovi paused.
"Then your family's uncles would come crawling out of the woodwork. They'd say you're too young to serve as Governor. They'd use that as an excuse to force you out."
Alicia's smile vanished.
The dagger tip pressed down a little harder, piercing the skin under Rovi's chin.
A drop of blood trickled out.
"You know a lot about my situation?"
"I looked up the records in the Archives," Rovi said.
"The power structure on Fertility II isn't complicated. You inherited the title, but real power lies with three branches of the family and the Executive Council."
"You're short on money, short on grain, and, more than anything, short on people. Especially people who can get things done and remain absolutely loyal."
"Then how can you prove you're one of them?"
"I left you the code," Rovi said. "I didn't give the evidence to the tax assessor or the Ordo. I gave it to you. That means I've placed my bet on you."
Alicia lowered the dagger.
She turned, walked back to the desk, and sat down.
"Get up."
Rovi stood.
His knee hurt a little, but he stood straight.
"You're clever and bold." Alicia pulled a document from her drawer and tossed it onto the desk. "Do you know where the last person who spoke to me like that is now?"
"Probably at the Fertilizer plant," Rovi said.
"Correct." Alicia pointed to the document. "This is your new appointment."
Rovi glanced at it.
Special Agricultural Advisor.
No rank.
No real authority.
Directly under the Governor's Mansion.
"It's a sham position," Alicia said.
"You can use it to throw your weight around the Executive Council, or to requisition some supplies. But that's all."
"If you want to stay alive, you'll have to prove your worth with more than just cooking the books."
"What do you need me to do, Governor?"
"Grain."
Alicia tapped the desk.
"The Imperial Tithe quota for next quarter will increase by twenty percent. That's the Ministry of the Interior's latest order."
"Because the fighting on the far side of the Great Rift is intensifying."
Before you continue